


In Vino Veritas

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Loving someone who has been abused, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fill, Slurs, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Castiel has lived a very hard life so far, but where another might see a victim, Sam sees a survivor.





	In Vino Veritas

Sam looked up as the door slammed open, smacking into the wall so hard that it bounced back at the person trying to enter. He stared. The cursing was slurred and half-hearted, and in a very deep voice.

“Cas? Are you…”

His friend blinked at him several times, then pushed the door closed with far more effort than should have been necessary. “I got your message,” he sighed. His tie was askew, and his coat was coming off at one shoulder, and the hair...Well, the hair wasn’t actually any worse than usual, now that Sam thought of it.

“Oh, I-“

“It was long.”

Sam let his eyebrows lift.

“Your message. And your voice...grating.”

He scowled. “What’s wrong with you? You’re drunk on a Tuesday night?”

“No!” Castiel took a step toward him, and wavered so badly that Sam jumped up to steady him. “Yes,” he allowed finally.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I found a wine cabinet.”

“And?”

“And I drank it!”

Now that his friend was so close, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming. “God, Cas! Are you all right?”

Castiel gestured to him to lean in, so Sam ducked a bit. In his ear, Castiel whispered, “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

He stepped back and glared at him. “You’re ridiculous. Let me guess. Mick Davies threw a party.”

His housemate stumbled toward the couch and crashed there. Sam could tell Castiel’s sobriety was back on the rise, but exhaustion was weighing on him. And Sam would have bet rent that he hadn’t eaten in far too long. “He can drink,” Castiel sighed finally.

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. Cas, you never come back from hanging out with Renny happy.”

“Drunk.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t happy. He was drunk.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sat on the coffee table beside him. “I mean you don’t come home happy after being with him.”

“Of course I don’t. He’s always with those guys from his old fraternity. A quick minute in some guy’s bathroom is all I ever get.”

This bothered Sam. It really, really bothered him. Castiel should be with someone who cared about him, who paid him the attention and affection he deserved. But what could he say?

“Anyway, he was pissed because-because I got a message from you. Started a fight right in front of freaking Art Ketch and Mick and everyone.”

Sam couldn’t help frowning sharply. “What’s his problem? I just called to check on you! It’s Tuesday, Cas! You didn’t come home. I just-“

“Called to check,” Castiel sighed miserably. “I know that. That’s what I told him.” He stared at the wall for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Renny is only happy when I’m on my knees, Sam.”

The young man flinched.

“He’s only...he tells me…”

Sam choked on his words. “Cas, let’s get you to bed, okay?”

“One minute, he’s yelling at me that I’m not worth all the aggravation, and the next, I’m giving him head in the hall bathroom, and he’s telling me I’m gorgeous. And the minute it’s done, I’m back to aggravating. I drank too much wine, Sam.”

His heart ached terribly. Castiel would never have told him any of this while sober. “In vino veritas,” he said with sadness in his voice.

His friend narrowed his glassy eyes. “In vino-Wine is green?”

Sam smiled. “Veritas, not verde. In wine, truth. Drunk men don’t remember to lie.”

Cas snorted. “There isn’t much point in lying. You can tell I’ve drunk too much tonight.”

“Not about the wine itself, Cas.” But he let it go. “You’ve got to stop seeing this guy.”

Tears were filling those blue eyes now, and Sam wanted nothing more than to hold his friend until Wednesday. Maybe until forever. “Easy for you to say,” Castiel muttered bitterly. “It’s fine, Sam. Leave it alone. I’m fine. No relationship is perfect.”

“No, but-“

The tears began their slide down Castiel’s gray face. “Sam, stop. I’m too drunk and I’m sobering up too quickly at the same time. Don’t scold me for going out tonight.”

He hurried to correct him. “No! You can go out! But why him? He treats you like garbage, Cas! And you hate his friends!”

“I’m lonely!” the deep voice cried out. Humiliation flushed his cheeks, and made him squeeze his eyes shut. “Renny puts up with me. He likes what I do for him. Anyway, what choice do I have? It’s better than being alone. I’ve been alone for so long. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. I want someone to love, someone to touch. So what if he doesn’t love me? So what if...if he...if he…” Sobs hindered his words now, but he pushed through them. “So-so what if he doesn’t bother to touch me unless we’re having sex?” he hissed out. “It’s fine.”

“Cas, that’s not fine-“

He glared at him angrily. “What do you know? You can’t understand! You’re...You’re you! And I’m…” He huffed a sorry laugh. “And I’m me,” he finished quietly, as if that settled everything. “It’s none of your business.”

Sam wanted to shake him. But instead, he stood wearily, and held out his hand to help Castiel up too. “God. You’re a walking Lifetime movie. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I would’ve done it. If it meant he would...I would have. And that’s all he wanted to know.”

He heaved Castiel through the bedroom door, and onto the bed. “Would have what, man?”

The sobs were breaking his heart. “It wouldn’t have been such a big deal. Just a few minutes with my eyes closed. Not so bad. It’s just having to look at Ketch after, anytime I see him. Knowing what he’s thinking. But I would have done it if it was-if it was what Ren asked of me.”

A sick feeling filled Sam’s throat. “What did he want you to do to Ketch?” he growled.

“Brothers, he said. Said it’s what brothers do. And, really, who cares, right? Twenty-one fucking years old, I’m not a child! I can-And it isn’t like he didn’t make it my decision. If Art needs something his brother’s got-I should be glad Ren wants me to-thinks I’m good enough to…”

Sam’s breath was too shallow. “Cas? What did Renny want you to do to Arthur Ketch?”

Humiliation burned Castiel’s cheeks. But he smiled anyway. “The only thing I’m any good at. Only thing I can ever do to make Ren happy, only reason he keeps me at all, what makes me worth the trouble. But it doesn’t matter, because it was a lie.”

His friend could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. Sam had wanted to punch that rich prep school bastard the minute they met. But now he wanted to kill him. Renny “Top of His Class” Rawlings used Castiel’s insecurities to break him down, to make him afraid that no one could ever love him if he screwed things up with Renny. He had Castiel convinced that what they had was as close as he would ever get to being loved. Castiel would do anything to hold onto that chance.

“It was a-a lie. A trick. To see if I would say yes. So he could tell me how disgusting I am. How much of a whore. So he could show me why I can’t be trusted, why-why he can’t trust that a voicemail from my best friend is just a voicemail, or that the friend is just a friend. He said...said if I’m willing to choke on Art Ketch, I must be so desperate to be-to be filled that I...So I left…”

His voice was lowered into a growl. “Tell me what happened.”

“I got to Mick and Toni’s place, we drank, we argued, I went down on him, he told me what he wanted for Ketch, I agreed, and there was shouting. I can’t believe I walked out on him. It’s so stupid; it only makes it worse. I’m so tired of never getting it right. And now I have to call Ren, and tell him I’m so sorry for walking away, and beg him to-to forgive…”

Sam stared at him. He had known that Castiel’s boyfriend was toxic, but he didn’t realize just how venomous the man was. “Cas, what’s happening here? You don’t have to call him! And you certainly don’t have anything to apologize for! The douche made you agree to-what? Go down for his buddy Ketch, and then he used that to make you out to be the one who can’t be trusted with another guy? Jesus, Castiel! That’s next level bullshit!”

“What do you know?” he hissed out.

He tried to take a deep breath, tried to dial back the fury. His vision was beginning to go red, the way Dean described how he felt just before a fight back in high school, when he was finished holding himself back, and his hand had already curled into a fist. Sam’s voice was strained under the effort of keeping calm. “What do I know?” he said very quietly. “I know my friend Cas. I know this isn’t his fault, not any of it, but he’s going to take the blame anyway, because that’s somehow better than admitting that his douche boyfriend gets off on humiliating him. I know he’s been in a damn spiral since this guy came into his life, after years of working to build confidence after what his foster father did to him.”

Castiel flinched violently, and could not look up again.

“Years of trying to see himself from a different angle, trying to see that he’s not a burden, and not a punching bag. He’s worth so much more than whatever his foster dad charged other sadistic assholes to get to hurt him.”

The man crumpled in the bed, curling his knees to his chest. “Sam, stop. Please stop.”

He knew he was being merciless, but he had to reach into Castiel and grab hold, to pull him back to what was true. “Cas, is there anybody else out there who knows these stories? That people literally paid money to hurt you? Anybody else know?”

“Of course not,” he wheezed. “I hide my scars. You know that.”

“Yeah? So why doesn’t Renny know? He’s seen you without your clothes. He’s seen the scars!”

The entire bed was quaking. “Yeah. But he hates how ugly they are. And when he asked how I got them, I told him I used to play sports, and he left it alone. Only mentions them to say they’re...That he’s glad I keep them covered up. Because they’re disgusting.”

“How much did it cost?”

Blue eyes shot open and Castiel stared back. “What?”

“To hit you. To beat the shit out of you. What did it cost? How much?”

It shocked the tears into silence.

“Well?”

“Did you really just ask me that?” Castiel breathed thickly.

“How much, Cas?”

His lips trembled relentlessly. “Four hundred dollars for twenty-five minutes,” he choked out. “A thousand for as long as they wanted for the night. So long as they didn’t kill me.”

Sam wanted to throw up. “Yeah. Okay. And where did these bastards come from? How did they know to go to your foster dad to do this?”

“They were all...It was a group. Online. They just talked about how much they wanted to hurt people, and he put it out there that-that he could give them what they wanted, a stupid, useless faggot to wail on, if they could pay. And I had to retake all my ninth grade classes because I missed too much school. You know all this, Sam.”

“Why doesn’t Renny know?”

Castiel scowled down at his hands. “He already thinks I’m an idiot. Because I’m a gas stop associate. He was top of his own class, you know-“

“Yeah, I don’t care. I’m sure he’s a real smart douche. But you told me and not him. Why?”

Desperation bled from Castiel’s eyes in tears, and Sam wanted to hold him, but he simply stared him down instead. “You know why!” he cried voicelessly.

“And this stupid fraternity, it reminds you of that group that used to fucking torture you as a kid.”

This flinch was audible. “Sam, stop. How did you know-“

“Because you talk to me when you drink enough!” he shouted. “And last time, you said you hate his friends, that the way Arthur fucking Ketch looks at you reminds you of the guys that used to pay your foster dad to beat you for fun! That the way Mick Davies drinks reminds you of the way you had to clean your own cuts with whatever alcohol you could find! Cas, why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you hanging out with these people, who remind you of being helpless? It’s like you went out and looked for ways to break your own heart! And, Cas, it’s killing me!”

The blue stare was far too steady. The young man metabolized alcohol like no one Sam knew. It was no wonder Castiel drank so much when he wanted to insulate his heart. The pain returned too quickly to allow him any relief.

Sam had seen enough. He would give Castiel something far more sustainable than a liquor bandage. What was in Sam’s own heart was truer than the wine he drank. “I can’t do this anymore, Cas. You’re punishing yourself somehow! It’s killing me to watch it. I don’t know why you do it, why you let people hurt you, but I can’t take it any longer.”

Castiel looked like he was going to vomit. “You’re going to leave me. Sam, please. I’m sorry. I don’t-I don’t mean to-I won’t put this all on you anymore. I promise. Sam, I swear. I won’t make this your problem any-Please.” He was sobbing so hard now that he wasn’t even able to breathe. “Please. I’m so sorry. Never should have told you. I was drunk, and I didn’t think, and-and now you’re done with me. Only one who ever really mattered, and you’re done with me.”

He sat hard on the bed beside his friend, and wrapped arms around him. The way the man shook inside the embrace shattered what was left of Sam’s heart.

“I’ll do anything, Sam. You know I will. Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you, Cas. I’m loving you.”

The trembling calmed very slowly, until Castiel was still in his arms. He was so still finally that he had to push back to check that the young man was breathing.

“Cas?”

“Say...say that again?”

Sam sighed. “I said I’m not leaving you. I’m so sick of everyone beating the shit out of my best friend. So let me love you instead. Nobody else knows how to do it right. So let me.”

Castiel had his eyes screwed shut now. “No. No, that’s…”

A sting of anxiety needled into Sam’s chest. “Look,” he began again. “There are a lot of reasons for you to let me take this guy’s place. Okay? He’s so toxic, Cas. And you’ve set the bar so low that even he can reach it, but it shouldn’t be like that! And the best reason I’ve got to offer you is that I’ve loved you longer and...and, Castiel, I can do it better.”

“Do...what?” The blue eyes opened again and stared at him, and suddenly, Sam was certain Castiel was considering his words.

It gave him the confidence to continue. “Love you, Cas. You walked away from him today. So don’t go back! He will never deserve you, man! And-and maybe I don’t either, but I can do it better!”

Disbelief radiated from the young man. “Why would you want to?”

“These past few months, you’ve been losing weight, and you’re so tired all the time. You’re drunk more nights than you’re not. Cas, you’re unhappy. And I get it, okay? You want to be loved, and you seem to think the only kind of person who could want you is someone like those psychos who paid to hurt you. It’s not true! You’re so much more than some guy’s victim! It’s not the only way to feel wanted, Castiel! I want you! And hurting you is the last thing on the planet I want to do with you.”

This all seemed to sink in very slowly. Sam was beginning to think he might have to start again, when at last a small, hopeful smile tugged on his friend’s trembling lips. “What would you want to do with me?”

He let loose a breath of relief. He grinned. “Just about everything else. Cas, it’s all I can think every time you’re upset. I could do this better. I could make him happier. I could show him how he deserves to be loved. I could give him what he needs without demanding his soul for it.”

Castiel let his gaze drop. “You don’t know how broken I am, Sam.”

Instinct propelled him forward, and he touched Castiel’s cheek. He saw his friend flinch minutely. “I know how the world has tried to break you, Cas. And I know how broken you feel. Nobody knows better than I do. But I also know that you are a survivor, and I have all the respect in the world for you, man. Renny looks at your scars and sees a toy he can bat around. I look at them, and I know only a warrior could have survived them. Castiel? You should be loved. I can do it better.”

His friend licked his lips. He still trembled; but it didn’t seem as painful now. “What do I do?” he whispered.

“Just don’t call Renny. Okay? That’s all I’ll ask. Don’t call Renny. Stay home with me instead. Whatever you wanted from him, take it from me.”

“I’m still drunk…”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, a little. But you won’t be in a few hours. You won’t be tomorrow. And I’ll still be saying the same things. I want to love you.”

“Why?”

He wiped his own eyes on the back of his hand. “Why? Because I already do!” He took a deep breath, and calmed his voice. “Cas, look. Remember my brother Dean?”

“Of course. He introduced us.”

“Yeah. Because you two were in that therapy group together. Because he knew you needed a friend. And he figured I might not need therapy, but I needed a companion. Honestly, I think he just thought, hey, this guy is gay like Sam, and he’s had a shit childhood too. They should be friends. But over the last two years, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bitched to him how much I hate the assholes you date. How much better you deserve. And you know what he thinks?”

Castiel shook his head mutely.

“He thinks you’re doing it subconsciously, to prove to yourself that the way you were treated as a kid was a valid way to live, that it’s the only way to be wanted.”

The young man scowled. “Can’t believe that assbutt went back for a psych degree after all his bitching about being court-ordered to go to our sessions as kids.”

Sam gave him a soft smile. “Point is, Cas, it’s time to let someone treat you right. And maybe you don’t want me yet, but give me a chance. I’m better than he is. You’ll be safer with me. And maybe after a while, maybe you’ll want me too.”

Blue eyes, wary of deception, weary of betrayal, stared up at Sam. “I want you.”

Sam’s own eyes widened a little. “Oh,” he muttered.

“That’s okay?”

“That’s...Cas, what the hell have you been doing with Renny freaking Rawlings if…”

Castiel took a breath, then another. His face was finally cooling, his eyes beginning to dry. “He puts up with me. It never really occurred to me I might be able to do better. And it definitely didn’t ever cross my mind that you were an option. Sam, we’ve been friends for years. You never…”

“Well, I am now. You left Renny today. Will you have me?”

The young man reached for him, and Sam obliged happily. “God, if you’ll just let me love you and touch you, I will always be grateful,” he breathed. “I’ll never ask for anything, Sam, I promise. I won’t. Let me love you. Just tell me you want me, and I’ll never need anything else.”

It made his chest ache. “Don’t do that. Not with me. Okay? If you want something, I want you to let me know. That’s the way it’s supposed to work, Cas! Just tell me. I’m never going to do what he did, what any of them did. I know you better. I’ll love you better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long before talk became touch, and touch became sensual. Kisses led to lingering. But when two days of cautious experimenting went by, it seemed to dawn on Sam suddenly that Castiel was shying away.

Sam had joined him after dinner, on the couch, where Castiel was looking at but not watching the television. The large man gently pushed in so that they were cuddling and kissing, but Castiel moved away as soon as Sam’s hands wandered beneath his tee shirt hem. It was still frightfully new, this sort of touching, and even though Castiel enjoyed it with all his heart, a pervasive fear burrowed into his chest.

At last, Sam sat back. “Castiel? Is this okay? You’re leaning away from me. Is this too fast?”

It was about two years too slow, in Castiel’s opinion. He had dreamed of touching Sam this way, lying with him this way, loving him this way. But his fantasies had always slammed to a halt when it came to Sam touching back.

“Cas? What’s wrong?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s good. I’m...just not used to it.”

Sam sighed. “Cas, I’m not going to be like Renny was.”

Too-fresh pain stabbed at him from inside, but he shook his head. “I know. And that’s good.”

“But?”

The man shrugged, and lowered his eyes. How could he say what he was thinking? After all that Sam had done for him, how could he tell him what he was afraid of? He was ruining their friendship. Sam was trying to take it to another level, and Castiel was going to ruin it altogether. Why couldn’t he ever get it right?

He should have known Sam would sense his anxiety. Sam was so intuitive. “Wait. Cas, are you worried about…”

He was silent. Shame flushed his skin uncomfortably.

“Cas?”

He made himself meet Sam’s gaze. Sam deserved that. God, was there anything Sam didn’t deserve? What could Castiel ever possibly offer such an angel?

Sam’s frown deepened. He sat back in the couch. “Castiel? I’ve seen your scars.”

Without his permission, his eyes squeezed closed again.

“They’re part of you. And I love you. If you think-“

“They’re disgusting,” he forced out at last. “You’ve seen them, but-but you’ve never touched them. They’re disgusting.” He wanted a drink, he realized with a start. Just thinking of Sam’s hand even accidentally brushing his scars made him want to drink. When had he become so dependent on alcohol? He knew he had a bottle of wine he could use to drown the shame, and he wanted it.

But instead, Sam was touching his cheek, so gently. “Shh. Cas, there is nothing about you that is disgusting. Okay? Nothing.”

Everything about him was disgusting. He knew things about himself that no one should know for sure. He knew what he was after hours of pain, and it was disgusting. He knew the humiliation of begging for water, for air, for the pain to stop. He knew how repulsive he was. Sam didn’t know him like he did. And he didn’t want Sam to know.

“Cas, please. Look at me.”

_Look at me, you filthy bitch._

Castiel flinched violently.

Sam was watching him. “Cas?”

_We’re just getting started. Don’t you pass out on me yet. I’m getting my money’s worth out of you this time._

It seemed like the voice from his memory was louder than Sam’s. It was the nasal, smirking voice of Alistair, the horror who cut into him, and nearly killed him twice a month.

Sometimes he couldn’t sleep at night because he could hear that voice describing his work as he did it, explaining to Castiel exactly how he would butcher him piece by piece, in a darkly academic way. His guardian had named him “Picasso with a razor,” in a tone of awe, but he referred to himself as Hell’s Grand Torturer.

Most of the scars were Alistair’s.

Castiel wasn’t sure when he had leapt from the couch, but he was already uncorking the wine by the time Sam caught up.

“Cas! What’s wrong?” his only friend in the world cried.

He stopped, and stared at his hands, which were shaking badly. He made himself put the bottle onto the counter. “I shouldn’t drink.”

Sam’s eyes widened, which only shamed him further. It shouldn’t shock his friend when Castiel chose not to imbibe. “Cas, come talk to me?”

“Bad day at work,” he muttered. “I’m fine. Just a...bad…” Life so far. A bad life so far. And whose fault was that, if not his own?

“Did I do something that bothered you? You have to tell me so I don’t accidentally do it again. It’s okay. Just say it.”

_Say it. You skinny waste. Say it._

Then his own voice was joining in, muffled with blood, through aching, sticky-dry lips.

_No. Not like that. Like I taught you! Just say it!_

“I’m-I’m a sickness. I’m an infection. I’m a disease. And I don’t-don’t deserve to live.”

Sam stared at him. “What?” he hissed.

Castiel blinked. It was hard to see with all the lights in his eyes. “Broken, flawed abortion.”

_Say it again!_

Tears were streaming down his cheeks. When had he started crying again? He hadn’t cried in weeks. “I’m a sickness. I’m an-an-an…”

“Oh my god, Castiel! Why are you saying this?”

_Disgusting waste. Can’t even learn a few simple words! I guess we’ll have to start your lessons from the beginning._

Defeat and depression weighed him down, and he leaned on his ropes. But the ropes weren’t there, weren’t holding him up, and so he fell to the ground.

“Cas? Jesus. Cas, if you don’t talk to me right now, I’m going to take you to a fucking hospital!”

_A fucking hospital! Is that what you want, you whining bitch? Want to go run to them? Tell them that your foster father, the only man who would take you, that he’s hurting you? They’ll toss you out on the street. If you turn on a foster parent, don’t you know what they do? You’ll never be taken in again. You think there’s a line of folks just waiting for a stupid fag they can bring home? No! This is the only way anyone will ever want you, you piece of stinking trash. This and sucking down other fags, because that’s what you’ll have to do if you’re out on the street. You should be grateful anyone wants you for anything at all, so stop whining!_

“I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

_Pathetic. You know, pain is a religious thing for me. An art, an expression. You’re a canvas, Castiel. Be grateful. I’m putting you to better use than anyone ever will…_

Someone was shaking him. It was probably his guardian. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I can stand. I’m sorry. Is he gone?”

“Who?”

“Al-Alistair...He’s done with me? Did I do all right?” He tried to lift himself from the dirty barn floor, but the dizziness fought against him. He desperately needed his guardian to acknowledge he had done well. Or at least well enough to have earned his meals for the rest of the weekend. During the week, he could eat at school, but if he disappointed Alistair, if Alistair had complained that Castiel was uncooperative, it would be a very long wait till Monday.

“You’re all right. Okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

He sighed with relief. He would eat tonight, or at least tomorrow morning. A little time soaking in the shower, a little alcohol for his cuts, a few hours of sleep, and plenty of water, and he would be fine. He could do this. It wouldn’t be forever. One day at a time. Just until he could get work, and live on his own. Just until running away wouldn’t mean living in the streets, doing those things Alistair warned him about. He just had to get by until then.

In the meantime, there was a small part of him, the part he recognized on good days as a cancerous part. That little piece of Castiel shamed the rest of him by seeking his guardian’s approval just for its own sake. It didn’t matter how messed up it was. Castiel wanted to be wanted, and this man was his only option, the closest thing he had to a father, to any family at all. If this was the only way he could get that approval that he ached for so badly, he would do it, and he would do it right. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help being a little bit grateful.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post-traumatic stress disorder. Of course Castiel had PTSD. Three people were in prison for what they had done to him as a child. Lucas Pitt, the guardian who was meant to protect him, the psychopath Alistair Damon, who had crossed three states for the chance to torture him for the low price of $1,000, and the social worker Amos Dayous, who had ignored every bruise and scar in exchange for a cut of the profit-they were all rotting in prison now. Sam hoped they never emerged from their cages. He just wished they could have tracked down the other clients who had paid Pitt to hurt Castiel.

But there was still a lot that Sam didn’t understand. “So why now? I mean...I get why he’s still feeling this stuff. I really do. But if he were going to have these episodes, why now?”

Castiel was silent on his end of the couch. He stared down at his own hands without blinking.

The counselor nodded. “We may never really know what triggered-“

“You’re good to me.”

Sam turned to stare at his friend.

The counselor cleared his throat. “What do you mean by that, Cas?” he pressed quietly.

He did not look up from his hands, but he spoke again in his deep voice. “He’s good to me. And that scares me. I’ve never been…”

When he paused for too long, Sam took one of his hands in his.

Castiel smiled sadly. “Renny would never have held my hand like that. None of them would have. Nobody touched me, my whole life, unless they were hurting or using me. Nobody bothered to look close enough to see that I’m...Sam, I never even got carded at the liquor store. Nobody cares if I drown myself. Nobody cares that I’m broken.”

Sam cared. Sam cared a lot. But he listened.

“Even when they came to arrest my guardian, and they called him Lucifer Pitt in the news, even then, nobody really cared about me. They set up a trust for therapy, and everyone walked away to the next freak show. No one even checked to see if I was even getting therapy. So I stopped, and no one noticed. Nobody but your brother. He tracked me down and told me if he had to go, so did I. Then I met you. And you’re the only other one who ever-ever even cared whether I drank myself into a coma. Ren called me yesterday.”

He had been leaning forward, watching intently, but now he sat back with a tiny intake of breath through his nose. “He did?”

Castiel nodded. He was still looking at his hands. “He reminded me how much I owe him. How much he put up with from me. That I’m nothing without him.”

“Jesus, Cas! Why do you let him talk to you that way?”

The counselor waited.

“Because what _he_ says makes sense to me!”

The outburst made Sam flinch away.

Castiel let go of his hand and dropped his head into his own. “Renny makes sense to me, Sam! You don’t!”

Sam felt as though he had been slapped across the face. “How can that be? Cas, I’m the one who cares about you! I’m the one-“

“Why the hell would you do that?” Castiel demanded. “Before, I could just believe you were just this ridiculously nice guy who put up with my shit. I knew what I was, but you were such a freaking saint that you let me hang out, so long as I paid my part of rent. But then you were saying things to me, doing things, touching me, like you actually liked me!”

“We’ve been best friends for years!”

Castiel threw his hands in the air. “Because you felt sorry for me!”

Sam’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

The young man swallowed hard. “Sam, I’ve been waiting for my time to run out for years. Eventually, you would get sick of this stupid, messed up convenience store clerk who couldn’t get his life together. And when I finally thought that moment had come, when I thought for sure you were going to tell me to get out, or leave yourself? You told me you love me! How does that make any sense? Renny telling me that he’d consider taking me back if I came to him on my knees with my mouth open, that made sense! That’s the kind of thing someone says to a waste like me, a fucking disease like me. They don’t say they love me.”

“What did you say to Renny?”

Sam and Castiel both turned. “What?” they each cried.

The counselor sighed. “Cas, when Renny said those things, what did you say?”

Castiel burst into tears, and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. A bitter laugh was strangled in his throat. “I told him to go to hell. Because I knew that was what Sam would want me to say. But you know what I wanted to tell him? I wanted to tell him to hold that offer for a month, and give me time to ruin my chance with the best thing that ever happened to me just by being myself. Give me a month, and Sam will regret all this. Then I’ll be so desperate for someone to tell me the truth that I’ll do whatever he wants.”

“The truth?” Sam hissed. “You think he’s the one who…” He shook his head, unable to continue.

At last, the counselor cleared his throat. “You’re afraid. You think Sam is deluding himself, that he is going to suddenly realize who you really are, and regret beginning a new element in your relationship. And then you’ll be on your own again, but worse off than before, because you will have lost your best friend, and maybe even your home, since you live together.”

Castiel blinked wearily. “I’ve been homeless. I’ve been cold and wet and hungry. I’ve been desperate, willing to do anything for a bit of warmth or a bite, for a safe place to sleep. For company. I hate myself for the things I did just to not be alone. I spent a year on the street, and I don’t want to do that again. It scares me how good at it I was. I could just slip out of society altogether, and no one would ever notice I was gone.”

“I noticed,” the man said in a patient, quiet tone.

Sam sighed out his sob.

Castiel looked at the counselor hard. “Why? You were the only one. I’ve never understood that. I think of it more than you could ever know. You found me. Why did you even look?”

Sam sat back. It was going to be all right. Castiel would listen to this man. He always did. Because this was the first person who ever noticed Castiel, just like he was the first person who ever noticed Sam.

Dean smiled that slow, handsome smile that never failed to put someone at ease immediately. “Because you’re a weird, nerdy little guy, and my life is better when you’re in it. And my life is better when Sam is happy. You make him happy. That makes you family, Cas. When you finally stop fighting against it, you’re going to like having a brother. I always did.”

Sam smiled up at his hero, and mouthed a thank you. But Dean was already reaching out to hold Castiel, who was whimpering apologies and promises that neither of the brothers needed from him. It would take a lifetime to teach Castiel he was worthy of love. But they were the Winchesters, and they weren’t afraid of a little hard work.


End file.
